Atlas
by strangefascination
Summary: "I can be your lost boy, your last chance, your 'everything better plan'… somewhere in Neverland" When Peter tries to find "himself a Wendy" permanently, he messes up their classic tale. Now the race is on for Wendy and the Lost Boys to fix the story of the boy who never grows up or risk losing Neverland forever. Modern-day fiction.
1. Nine in the Afternoon

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the works I am going to mention below. The concept of Peter Pan belongs to J.M. Barrie who left all proceeds to the Great Ormond Street Hospital. Additionally, the Disney Corporation, SyFy, and Hyperion (a branch of Disney) have some sort of legal rights to the works listed. So please don't sue me D:

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Hello! I've had this burning dream that keeps trying to grab ahold of me. That dream is to create a story that explains as many of the Peter Pan centered books and movies and weaves them into a coherent tale. After many hours (more like days) of pondering until I became nearly mad, I think I've constructed a story that is worth telling which will (hopefully) explain the entire life of Peter Pan.

Inspired works that are woven into this story:

_Peter and Wendy_ (1911 novel)

_Peter Pan_ (1953 Disney film)

_Hook_ (1996)

_Return to Neverland_ (2002 Disney film, sequel to Disney's Peter Pan)

_Peter Pan_ (2003 film)

_Peter and the Starcatchers _(2004 unauthorized Hyperion/Disney novel)

_Peter Pan in Scarlet_ (2006 book, authorized sequel)

_Neverland_ (2011 SyFy miniseries)

^You honestly do not have to read/watch the aforementioned as I will weave their contributions into this story, but if you would like to, they're pretty awesome. ^.^

I really hope you enjoy this tale.

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><p><strong>1. Nine in the afternoon<strong>

"Back to the street, back to the place,

Back to the room where it all began, hey

Back to the room where it all began

'Cause it's nine in the afternoon"

- Panic at the Disco

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><p>Neverland<p>

On a bright spring morning, Peter woke up to Nibs' particularly loud snoring. Smiling lazily, he got out of bed and was on his way to way up Tinkerbell when he spotted something glittering in a nearby chair. Befuddled, he crept closer. It was a shiny silver thimble. Picking it up, his mind was suddenly filled with an image of a beautiful young girl, happily looking at him with big blue eyes and long brown curls. Her lips were as red as roses, with a hidden kiss peeking out from the right corner, easily hidden when she flashed her dazzling teeth. The Wendy-lady.

With eyes moving rapidly as he focused on his surroundings, he caught a glimpse of the rocking chair with the word "mother" affectionately stitched into a throw pillow. He smiled. His Wendy. Looking around at his sleeping crew, Peter decided it was high time that he fetched Wendy. After all, spring had just come and he did have a promise to keep. Grabbing his hat, Peter headed towards the tree trunk to go toward the surface. The thought of Wendy smiling at him allowed Peter to rise up; he swiftly flew toward the sinking moon, just catching the star to its right. '_I'm coming Wendy.'_

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><p>London 1997 (New Year's Eve)<p>

At long last, Peter flew out of the second star to the right into London. The familiar stench of the River Thames assaulted his nose as he searched for No. 14 interwoven within the moon's glow. Quickly spotting it once he traced the clock tower, he flew down to the balcony as he was eager to see the pretty girl. The room was completely empty save for a chair and ottoman by the fireplace and a medium sized crib toward the back wall. Walking toward the crib, Peter searched, but no baby lay.

Suddenly a voice cried out, "Peter, is that you?" Fearful of the prospect of an adult catching him, Peter sprinted to the balcony. "Wait Peter! It's me, Wendy!"

_Wendy? _Peter froze at the thought. He turned back to see an elderly woman emerging from the dim doorway, slowly walking toward him. Flying to her face, he examined her. Silky brown hair turned musty and white, once taunt skin marred by dozens of wrinkles, Peter could barely recognize her. But her eyes had remained the same, full of life and still as blue as the ocean.

"Wendy?" he asked. "You've changed," he said crossly, stubbornly looking away.

Wendy giggled, and decided to copy herself fifty-three years prior.

"Not really," she smiled as she lightly touched his face to turn it back to look at her, "Not ever." As soon as these words left her lips Peter began remembering this exact scene.

_Upon bringing back Wendy's daughter, Jane, Peter smiled as he saw her go up to a younger boy and begin to tell stories all about him. 'The story continues' he thought. He then saw a figure approaching the window. Scared, he rushed toward the side of the window, nervous to look at the person. He waited a few seconds, and then dared himself a peek. It was a pretty middle aged woman. Baffled, he looked again but he barely saw her as she started to walk away. 'Wendy?' _

_"Yes that's Wendy you silly ass!"scolded Tinkerbell. _

_'"Shhhh!" cautioned Peter. He turned to leave but stopped himself and hid under the window. _

_He hearing her coming back, he decided to fly up to her face to look more closely. 'She looks a lot older than fourteen' ._

_"Wendy?" he asked confused. _

_"Hullo Peter," she smiled graciously as she tucked a loose strand behind her ear. _

_He decided to take another look. Still beautiful, Wendy stood there, blue eyes shining as bright as they ever were. 'But she's much older' he thought sadly. _

_"You've changed," he said hotly, crossing his arms at her evident betrayal. _

_"Not really," she whispered, gently taking his face, "Not ever". _

_"Let me see! Let me see!" Tinkerbell cried, flying directly between them to land on Wendy's palm. _

_"Hullo Tinkerbell," Wendy brightly said. _

_Tinkerbell nodded back to Peter as if to say, she's still the same at heart. Peter looked astonished but smiled nevertheless as Tinkerbell flew about Wendy to allow the older woman a nostalgic thrill. Wendy laughed as she rose a few feet. _

_'Just like the good old days,' Peter thought. He then realized that this would be the last time he got to see Wendy smile as Neverland was burning itself at the back of his mind. _

_"Madame," Peter said as he bowed graciously. _

_Wendy reciprocated with another laugh as she curtsied. Sad but trying to be happy for her, Peter held his hat in hand, "Goodbye Wendy" he uttered as he flew away. _

_"Goodbye Peter!" she cried. _

Shaking his head, Peter came back to present-day, gazing at Wendy. She didn't look at him as she kept a steady rhythm. He stared as she continued darning socks by the crackling fire.

"Come, sit by me, will you?" she said, eyes still locked on her stitching, "I bet you have a lot of questions."


	2. 100 Years

**Author's Note: **I plan to update by every Thursday as I already have the ending roughly made; I promise you I'll finish this story by summer 2014. However, since I am a student, there might be multiple uploads in one week and none the other week to kind of balance it out when my midterms/projects/oh my's come.

I am more than happy to receive constructive criticism. It'd be the best thing since Tina Fey's birth.

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><p><strong>2. 100 Years by Fighting for Five<strong>

"67 is gone, The sun is getting high, We're moving on..."

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><p>London 1997 (New Year's Eve)<p>

"I do! Like what happened to you? You grew up! And you had a daughter named Jane and-" Peter began breathing shallowly as he struggled to recall everything at once.

"Oh Peter!" Wendy called his attention. "Do relax! I'll start with Jane. She moved to America with her husband, but her daughter Moira decided to study here. Now, Moira's pregnant with my great grand-daughter whom I have a feeling she'll name after me."

"So that means..." Peter edged closer to the end of the ottoman. He was fearful of even suggesting it. "Will there be a new one?"

Wendy laughed. "Yes, Peter, there's going to be a new child to take to Neverland. I have a feeling you'll really like her." She looked at him knowingly.

For Wendy's sake, Peter half-smiled. _'It wouldn't be the same without this Wendy.' _Pushing his thoughts aside, he continued, "But what about you?"

"Peter, I'm 93 years old," replied Wendy. She sighed, "I'm about to die soon."

"What do you mean you're about to die soon!" sputtered Peter. "Why can't you live past 93 Wendy?"

"It is the curse of Neverland Peter. As you chose to live eternally, you are destined to be the boy that never grows up just as I am destined to be the Wendy-lady. This cycle is on full repeat: I go to Neverland with you, I realize that I must grow up, I come back to London, and then you come back to take my daughter, then my granddaughter, and finally a new Wendy is born. Then the cycle repeats itself. But for her to live, I must die."

"What?" Peter asked incredulously. "That's impossible Wendy because that would mean - "

"That would mean that it's already happened and in the process of happening?" interrupted Wendy. "Yes, for nearly 175 years now - at least from what you've told me."

"Then why don't I remember?" He was dumbfounded.

"Because just as children do, you forget Peter. Only when you come to Earth and think about it, your memories soon resurface."

So Peter thought. His mind stretched back to when he was an infant. Squirming in his pram, Peter was only a year old when he heard his mother talk about her plans for his future. Granted, they weren't in full detail, but the idea of growing up by becoming a judge and having a family overwhelmed Peter. That was his whole reason for escaping, as the faeries brought him to Kensington Park.

Amongst the grass and thorn bushes, young Peter played until he remembered his mother. He went back to her and gladly found the window still open. Satisfied, he went back to his friends to bid farewell but by the time he came back to the window, his parents had another baby boy in blue; they had forgotten all about him.

Then Peter began remembering the countless lost boys and eventually few lost girls that he had shuttled back and forth from Neverland and London. He also remembered not really noticing this pattern until this Wendy, born in 1904, pointed it out while spring cleaning in what she had said was the year 1916.

"I always do forget when I go back," Peter vexedly said.

"If you think about it, it's more of a blessing," reassured Wendy. "It helps preserve your eternal youth since my world always want people to remember, thereby growing up."

"Good thing I always go back before I truly remember everything," joked Peter.

"Yes Peter. But sometimes, I wonder." Wendy seemed distant as she faced the flickering fire.

"What do you wonder Wendy?"

"I wonder if it's ever enough. If living forever and never aging until coming here is as lovely as you make it sound."

Peter scrunched his face. "It is!" he insisted. "I have infinite amounts of adventures, all the friends I could want, and," he struggled to formulate his words. Then he looked up defiantly. "And every once in awhile I get to see you!"

More memories filled his head. As he pushed the limits of his memory, he stumbled across the first time he had met her. The first time Peter met Wendy he was 11 and she was 10. He was in Neverland with the Lost Boys but Nibs had pointed out his shadow was missing, so he came back to London. While looking for it, he stumbled upon a girl. She disliked her first name, so she picked the name Maimee. When Maimee reattached his shadow, Peter became curious about the strange girl he had met. He ended up spending two weeks in London to hang out with her; he was going to take her back to Neverland since he liked her so much, but then that fateful conversation happened.

_"Maimee! Maimee, wait!" Peter chased her as she ran through Kensington Park. He saw her hit a crossroad and slow down. Maimee was frantically trying to distinguish which road led home._

_"It's Wendy now Peter," Maimee said softly. She turned to him with apologetic eyes."I've got to go home for my mum is awfully worried about me."_

_"No she's not!" yelled Peter, flaring up at the thought of mothers. Maimee flinched. "She's replaced you with a new baby!"_

_"No, no it's not true!" Maimee began to cry. At the start of her tears, Peter immediately felt very guilty. _

_"Maimee, I'm so sorry!" _

_"Wendy," she corrected. "My real name is Wendy Mannering Peter. And if my fate is as horrid as you say, I had better go before she closes the window on me too!" _

_"Please! Please stay. Stay with me," pleaded Peter. He couldn't bear the thought of being alone once more. "We could get married Maimee," he said, thinking of the times Maimee wanted to play house, "And go to Neverland. I'll introduced you to The Lost Boys. You could be their mother. And then we'd have so many adventures!"_

_"I can't." answered Maimee sadly. She dried her tears on her sleeves. "It wouldn't be the same without my parents there. My real parents - not the faeries." With one last look at him, Maimee chose a direction and ran, never looking back. _

Peter painfully recalled being heartbroken when Maimee had left him. Shortly after, he went back to Neverland, trying to fill in the void with his friends. But one night, he saw a shooting star and remembered about the wish properties associated with it. So he flew to the sky and tried to catch it.

_"Aha! I got you" Peter said gleefully. The shooting star, aware that it could no longer fly high across the sky as it wanted to, looked at the boy reluctantly. _

_"What is your wish boy?"_

_"I want to never remember the ache in my heart ever again," said the little boy deviously. _

_"That would mean never growing up," replied the star wisely. _

_"Then I wish to never grow up and be immortal," said Peter, "and have endless adventures!" The shooting star sighed. "I hope you realize this wish comes with a curse boy," warned the star. _

_"I don't care," Peter said defiantly. _

Retrieving more thoughts after that, Peter remembered all the times he came to this very balcony. First it was for Maimee's daughter, Jane, then Margaret who liked to be called Molly (later on she went by Mary), then this Wendy. This Wendy that had sewn on his shadow. She had a daughter called Jane, who in turn had a daughter, Moira. With each brief flashback of bringing each of these women to Neverland, Peter felt his heart get stabbed. _'I should have paid attention to that curse part of the bargain,'_ thought he.

He glanced at Wendy who nodded as if she knew all the thoughts shifting through his head. "I wonder, how are you enduring this curse with me?"

"Painfully. Alas, in my old age I cannot remember as much as I used to. But if I could, living with you would be an awfully big adventure," she echoed. "But that will have to wait as death is eminent - 'til next time Peter."

"Wendy?" Peter asked cautiously. Wendy had closed her eyes and her breathing became sparse.

"Wendy!" he hoarsely whispered.

As if on cue, the fireworks burst in the distance, with many cheers of "Happy New Year" and "Happy 1998!" Watching her face, it looked as if she was merely sleeping. But her hand started becoming cold as ice. Gingerly taking his hand out of Wendy's, he started for the window. '_Wait, I want to remember this, even if I'll forget once I get to Neverland.' _

So he looked back and a scene entered his mind.

_"You wont forget me, will you Peter?" a young Wendy asked as she lay by the windowsill._

_"Me? Never!" Peter had said proudly with a trace of arrogance. _

"I won't forget you Wendy," Peter whispered. "You will always be my Wendy-lady."

And with that statement, Peter flew.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Tell me what you think! I aim to please (: <strong>


	3. The A Team

**Author's Note:  
><strong>1. PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! I found a beta and she's been doing such a great job going over my stuff (: SO A BIG SHOUTOUT TO TheWorldBookGirl. I will be editing all the grammatical issues she has graciously pointed out from the first two chapters.  
><strong><br>**2. ALSO I GOT MY FIRST FAVORITES! Okay, I'm calm now. But whoever both of you are, you totally just made my day since this is the first time I've posted something on fan fiction and not taken it down.

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><p><strong>3. The A Team by Ed Sheeran<strong>

"And they say, she's in the Class A Team, stuck in her daydream"

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><p>London 2014<p>

Wendy Moira Angela Kingston was falling. She didn't exactly know how she came to be in this situation but she figured the best thing to do was to wait it out. _'I don't really think I have a choice either way in this case.' _she thought.

Finally, she landed hard on her back, eyes toward an expansive dark sky. She glanced to her right where a bloodied unconscious boy lay. She felt incredibly sorry for him as she knew that he was dying. Wanting to wish a final farewell, she lifted herself up and looked at the dirty blonde locks framing a handsome face.

Cupping his cheek, she lowered herself to kiss him. _'Wait, what am I doing?' _Wendy thought as she internally screamed at herself for making such a rash, stupid decision. Jumping away from the boy, she was glad she could finally control her body. Suddenly, the boy's eyes flew open, with a wide Cheshire cat grin, he started turning a bright pink. _Whoosh_. And off he went into the sky as Wendy looked on with glee.

"Wendy?" a voice rang throughout the land. Wendy immediately spun around trying to find the source of the voice.

"Wendy darling!" the voice called. Wendy's eyes kept searching, but all she could find were pirates and a couple of lost looking boys.

"Wake up sweetheart" the voice cooed and Wendy's entire world started vanishing with puffs of smoke, her vision fogged and then snapped into a clear picture.

"You're going to be late for school!" chirped Mrs. Kingston as she went out the bedroom door.

Distracted, Wendy rose, taking her time to make the bed. Walking out of a dream-induced state, she strode to the bathroom and began her morning routine: teeth, music, hair, and face. Turning on her iPod, she grabbed the hair straightener, expertly weaving her red hair into sections to begin the morning process.

"White lips, pale face, breathing in snowflakes," she sang, critiquing her actions in the mirror.

As she did her hair, Wendy thought more about the strange string of dreams she'd been having. More often than not it involved the same boy she had kissed last night. In every dream appearance he'd made, he'd either managed to charm her or scare her by falling from the sky, directly into oncoming traffic. _'Serves him right,' _she thought, _'he's so arrogant!'_

But she still sympathized for him because she could tell that underneath his mischievous eyes, there was a kind of underlying sadness that resonated within Wendy. Plus, in their weird dream adventures, he seemed to always value her opinion, and looked at her so sharply it was as if he was trying to see her soul. _'It's like all of these dreams I've been having have already happened! But it couldn't have been because I don't know who this guy is in real life!'_

Lost in her thoughts, Wendy didn't noticed anything until the knocking on the door.

"Wendy? Are you done yet? I need to go!" whined John.

"And they say, she's in the class A team, stuck in her-" With a sigh, Wendy turned off the sound system, admired her handiwork, and put on some lip balm.

"All yours!" she casually said as she opened the door.

"And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland, or sells love to another man," she continued as she stripped down.

Straightening her uniform, Wendy reached for her satchel, slid down the banister, pecked her dad on the cheek, and hugged her mum while simultaneously grabbing an apple.

Taking a bite out of her fruit, Wendy hastily began reading _Peter and Wendy _as she walked toward campus. She had just looked up from her book in time to narrowly side-step around a congregation of businessmen. Shrugging off a few perplexed glances, she put her book away as she approached the secondary school.

"Wendy!" came a voice. Turning around, Wendy saw a pale boy running towards her. With a sharp chin, ruddy cheeks, and blonde curls spilled all over his head, Ed had been her loyal companion since primary school.

"Ed!" Wendy beamed at him, "Why are you rushing?"

"Can't a guy get excited to see his best friend?" Edward said coolly. Stopping to tie his shoe and readjust his uniform blazer he said, "Fox sends his best regards and hopes that you enjoyed the book."

"Oh I am," Wendy squealed, "I'm right at the part where the Never bird saves Peter. It's frightfully good but it's kind of eerie about the similarities Wendy and I have. She lives at No. 14, I live at a No. 14. Her name is Wendy Angela Moira Darling, while my name is Wendy Angela Moira Kingston. She also has two brothers named John and Michael. Why, it's almost as if..." Wendy's voice trailed off.

"Almost as if what?" asked Edward cautiously.

"No, it's stupid!" said Wendy, laughing it off. Edward looked at her oddly.

"Stop it Ed! It's nothing!" she cried, "How's William?"

William "Fox" Montgomery was Ed's older brother whom Ed lived with in an apartment by the wharf. Towering at six feet with dyed, quaffed red hair and known for his signature ray bans, black coat, and pack of cigarettes, Fox was a quintessential badass.

In fact, it was hard to believe that Mr. and Mrs. Kingston allowed their precious almost sixteen year-old daughter to fraternize with the likes of Fox and Ed, but the Kingstons did respect the quirky yet loving Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery. Contrasting the traditional values of Kingstons, the Montgomerys were reporters and documentarians for the BBC.

While Fox was a loose cannon, Ed was an embodiment of Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery's personalities. So really, the Kingstons could count on Ed to keep their daughter safe. Plus, Fox wasn't so bad; he acted very much like an older brother to both of Ed and Wendy.

"Fox," corrected Ed, "is doing quite well. His band has a gig tonight."

"That's fantastic!" cheered Wendy, "We should all celebrate!"

"Yeah, and you'll never guess where."

Later that night, Wendy admired herself in the mirror as she carefully placed studs into her ear. She bit back a laugh as she remembered the time she had gotten these studs.

_Head spinning, Wendy went to the lavatory filled with excitement. The whiskey had burned her throat, causing her to consume a lot of water. Gazing at her reflection, she thought back to the countless times that Fox and a few of his friends laughed at Wendy for her predictable behavior. _

_Looking through the cupboards, she found a sewing kit. After using the Fox's lighter to sterilize the needle, she stabbed her left ear twice. Satisfied, she confidently walked out of the lavatory. _

_"Hey Wendy, whoa." Fox's eyebrows shot right out of his shades, cigarette dropping to the floor. _

_There was an awkward pause as everyone just turned to look at Wendy. _

_"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO?" _

Succumbing to a chuckle or two, Wendy stopped when she heard her mother's footsteps. Gulping, she froze, hoping her mother's even pace would continue. After a few seconds, Wendy released an audible sigh. Her parents were very demanding and strict. While they did allow her to hang out with her friends, their talks of her becoming a proper lady were increasing by the day.

To Mr. and Mrs. Kingston, traditional values were the best values. A young lady like Wendy needed more female friends and should not be out past 8 pm, much less on a Friday. The exceptions to this were sleepovers at girl's houses; houses where Mr. and Mrs. Kingston were familiar with the girl's parents. But Wendy was headstrong and rebellious. Wendy liked to have guy friends as females honestly terrified her. She was an adventurous girl and hated the numerous expectations placed on her by her parents.

Like two weeks ago, when she had decided to henna her beautiful light brown hair into a rich, dark red color in honor of the new year. Thankfully, grandma Jane was there to laugh and chatter giddily, thereby ensuring a lighter punishment; her father had slyly commented that Wendy had changed her mind from pursuing English at university into pursuing Applied Mathematics. Wendy was appalled.

It was not that she detested maths, rather it was more of English spoke to her. The subject, taught by teachers Wendy had adored throughout the years, constantly provided her an outlet to express her frustrations as well as encourage her imagination to foster. Granted, for the sake of her parents, Wendy did try her best as maths and was shocked to find herself somewhat enjoying it.

Gingerly opening the balcony doors to let the moonlight fill the room, Wendy took one last glance at her bedroom and disappeared into the night.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> What do you think of 2014 Wendy?


	4. Changes

**4. Changes by David Bowie**

"Time may change me, but I can't trace time"

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><p>Beep. Beep. Beep.<p>

Peter devilishly smiled as he hit the alarm. Jumping out of bed, he didn't even gazed at the floor before retrieving his uniform pants and a clean button-down shirt from his dresser. Glancing at the naked figure stirring in his bed, he paused. For a split second he considered frowning at the sight of her, but then a thought popped into his head.

"Would you do anything for me, Cassandra?" he asked innocently. Waking up, the woman looked baffled, obviously not expecting the question. Taking advantage of the situation, he pounced on the bed, crawling towards her seductively.

"Well, would you?" he asked huskily, closing the gap between them so that they were only centimeters apart. He inwardly smirked as she struggled to regain her composure.

"Y-yes," she stammered. Peter grinned.

Turning to her, he put on the best puppy-dog face Cassandra had ever seen, "You see Cassandra, my mother has been awfully sick and, well, unfortunately I haven't had the chance to finish my part of the group work. You understand, don't you?" Peter scanned her face to look for any signs of doubt. For a brief moment, her face spoke volumes of suspicion to which he instantly responded by caressing her neck with kisses.

"Yes, Peter," she managed to whisper in between soft moans. "Also, last night was-"

"Amazing, I know," he stated matter-of-factly. After making her moan again, he promptly got off the bed and began dressing. Turning back to face her, his eyes drew straight to her body, debating whether to shag her again or not. As visually appealing as her curves were, he knew he was running late for music theory. With one last kiss, he headed towards the door, telling her that his part of the assignment was on the nightstand.

Walking, he froze when he saw the red lace bra in the middle of the hallway. His eyes spied the "Do not disturb" sign tacked to his mother's door. He sighed. As much as his adoptive mother was well-intentioned, she really did not know how to take care of a teenage boy.

At age twenty-eight, she was having the time of her life when, she claimed, Peter had decided to run into the middle of the street; she ended up running him over. Guilt-ridden, especially since he suffered from memory loss, she took him in and raised him as best she could. Four years later, Peter was sixteen and still had no recollection of his past. Hell, as his fingerprints weren't registered on the national database, all of the proper authorities has assumed his real parents were weirdos who had decided to raise their child Tarzan-style; he most likely grew up in one of the most remote regions of the world. It made sense though because while younger Peter did not know how to use basic technology, he had a proper understanding of physics and chemistry. He figured his parents were botanists who were incredibly dedicated to their work.

Coming back to reality, Peter frowned at the bra. With downcast eyes, he picked it up and placed in on the hallway's table, slightly pleased to see it stuck out like a sore thumb. Satisfied, he continued on his way down the steps into the kitchen, grabbing the keys to his motorcycle.

As he interwove through stalled or slowly moving motor vehicles, he had the strangest feeling that something exciting was about to happen today. Panicked, he shook the thoughts out of his head, refusing to think about future unknowns.

He had to keep going. After all, he had somewhere to be that night.

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><p>"Password?" a voice said automatically.<p>

"Dark chocolate," Wendy said breathlessly as the bouncer at the back door let her in.

The Dive was situated underneath London, with an interesting view of the River Thames. Once storage space for a ground-level haberdashery and men's clothing store, the owner, Richie, decided to turn it into a soundproof punk-looking nightclub for the musically-inclined. It received positive reviews from critics and broadcast a wide-selection of bands but the best thing about it, in Wendy's opinion, was that it was pretty underground; it drew in the 18-30 age group solely by word-of-mouth. The Dive strove to be elusive by producing incredibly strong drinks that an unlucky few forgot its location. It was simply beautiful memory etched in the back of their minds.

With old posters of just about every band in existence and counting, a huge stage, and a large bar, the Dive was the ultimate place to party. There was even an upstairs lounge overlooking the crowds to gamble. Wendy could hardly believe she was in here.

Removing herself from staring at the handsome waitresses and waiters who were chattering excitedly before their shift, she stepped back from the red curtains. She closed her eyes to breathe in the musty scent of a well-used backstage.

"Wendy, you're so weird," laughed a familiar voice. Opening her eyes and turning she saw Will–Fox–dressed in a classic monochrome ensemble of dress pants and untucked dress shirt with a vest.

"Fox," chirped Wendy as she hugged him. "It's been so long! Congratulations on your promotion." Nestling herself in his arms, an odor called her attention. "Have you been drinking?"

"Only since eight thirty," chuckled Fox, escaping the hug to drink more whiskey. "C'mon, there's a few people I'd like you to meet." He checked her out, "But first, we have to get you some new clothes little girl."

"Will!" Wendy whined, slapping him lightly on the shoulder.

"Ow!" Fox said feigning shock and fear. "And maybe a drink to calm those nerves!" Spinning her around, he pointed to a doorway. "It's small, but it will do. You'll find some clothes in there." Whispering to her he added, "Remember to dress sexy Wendy."

"But I am dressing sexy." Wendy pouted.

Fox chuckled responding, "Skinny jeans with a shiny red top? That's more cute than sexy. It works for bold twenty year-olds but you're barely sixteen. Most girls that get in here wear a dress, so find one you like, okay?"

"Are you sure I can just take one?" asked Wendy biting her lip.

"Of course, in fact I told Richie about you coming the other night," said Fox. "Just relax and have some fun like everyone else." Winking at her, he left to talk to the soundcheck guy.

Anxious, Wendy quickly stepped into an open doorway to her right. She found herself in a dimly lit small room with a clothes rack, makeup, and a wide vanity mirror. 'Perfect' she thought as she slipped off her black flats. Going to the clothes rack, she began shifting through the outfits, trying to find one that wasn't too revealing.

"Oh sorry! I didn't know anyone was in here!" exclaimed a voice. Wendy looked up to see a tan bleach blonde with a cocktail in one hand and Christian Louboutins in the other.

"It's okay," Wendy said, smiling. "I was just looking for something." Peering at her, the woman's eyes widened in recognition.

"You must be Will's friend? Wendy, right?" she asked, flashing her dazzling white smile. Wendy nodded. "I'm Margo." Lips pursued, Margo set her items on the vanity table, and quickly shifted through the outfits.

"Maybe this one?" she said, holding up a silky blue halter dress. "It looks a lot like mine, but I figure the color would bring out your eyes." Wendy made a face.

The woman laughed, "Okay, okay, I know, showing up in the exact same outfit is like fashion suicide. I know! Quick close your eyes! I think I just found something that will definitely make the boys go wild!" Winking, she smiled at Wendy. "Now don't look at me like that! It's going to be good - I promise."

Uneasy, Wendy closed her eyes and began humming a song. She didn't even know this woman and here she was allowing this stranger to pick out an outfit for her. But with her funny American accent and warm smile, Margo seemed really nice.

"Okay, open your eyes!" Wendy obeyed, and looked a woman holding a lacy dress that would leave nothing to the imagination. Shocked, Wendy just stared at her, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks.

"Oh God no!" laughed the woman before she glanced at the poor blushing girl in front of her. "It's not as if I expect a sixteen year old to go practically nude!" she continued in a matter-of-fact voice.

Wendy gaped at her. "You knew?"

"Of course I knew," said the woman nonchalantly, "I'm the club owner darling - I'm Margo Richie."

"You're Richie?" Wendy was stunned. "But I thought the owner was-"

"I know, I know, people always assume me to be a man." Margo snorted. "Please. A woman can do everything a man can do, while wearing high heels. But, I do have to ask, you _are_ wearing underwear, aren't you?"

"Yes," stammered Wendy. She didn't think she could get more red.

"Aw, sweetie," Margo sighed sympathetically. "It's going to be okay. Now, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm gonna need ya to strip."

* * *

><p>Over by the main entrance, a young man with dirty-blonde hair, emerald green eyes and a mischievous smile entered. Sophisticated in a suit and tie, he handed the suit jacket to the guy running coat check and rolled up his sleeves.<p>

"Wait, sir! Your name?" asked the coat checker.

"Peter." the man grinned, "Peter Richie."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: So hopefully I didn't ruin Peter too much. The explanation chapters (a large bulk of his life story) is already done. But I need to write this party scene before that -.- Why are parties so difficult? <strong>


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